


I couldn't utter my love when it counted (ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now)

by kelpeigh (chitaqua)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: "Does Sam know anything that happened between Dean and Cas this season?", First Kiss, I saw a tweet that asked, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Requited love? In my deancas? It's more likely than you think!, The only thing these two bring to the table is the audacity, and my response got out of control, idiots to lovers, incredibly brave and sexy of the author to practically plagiarize Spike and Buffy wouldn't you say, this will age well I KNOW IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chitaqua/pseuds/kelpeigh
Summary: “Told you it was my turn to ‘grip you tight’.”He expects an eyeroll. But Cas’s answering smile is muted and soft and gorgeous and endlessly fond. Loving, even. His smiles are rare enough that, to Dean, this small uptick of the lips is as bright and easy as the Empty was dark and suffocating.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 111





	1. The First Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> A million and one thanks to my betas [Bexy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petramacneary/pseuds/petramacneary) and [Holly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles), who gave me the necessary courage, strength, and assurance that even though the ending will undoubtedly spark some controversy, people will understand its poignance goes far beyond shock value. This piece is, in its absolute entirety, extremely serious and my first-ever published fic, so please be kind and gentle with criticism. 
> 
> What can I say? It's where the story took me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **THEN**
> 
> _Had no idea on what ground I was founded  
>  All of that goodness is gone with you now  
> Then when I met you my virtues uncounted  
> All of my goodness is gone with you now_
> 
> **NOW**
> 
> Ah, fuck. I can't believe I've done this.

A portal.

  


In the library.

  


A gaping maw of boiling pitch clings to Dean as he and Castiel claw their way out. They scratch at the floor, lunge for anything within reach in the Bunker’s library to hold on to. Literally kicking and screaming.

In a moment of dissonance, Dean wonders if his face is more wet from sweat or tears. He catches the end of a bookcase, and with one final heave, wrests his foot loose from the Empty’s clutches.

There’s no accompanying sense of relief; the damn thing still has Cas. It’s gaining on him. He was free from the waist-up just a second ago, but his struggling has apparently calmed a little seeing that at least Dean was free, and now he’s covered in the black writhing goo-vines gaining back every inch, save for his right arm. 

Dean pushes back some echo of a memory of that arm reaching to him pulling him free… he lunges back to Cas, and a blood-curdling screech eclipses Dean chanting “ _et nunc plena”_ one last time, and still can’t believe that rag-tag spell can burn away at the Empty just enough for Dean to make one last desperate pull on Cas’s hand. It’s enough— the Empty loses its hold on Cas so suddenly that Dean pulls him right into his own chest, knocking them both over in a tangled heap.

The portal collapses in on itself, leaving the wall as blissfully plain and boring as it was some long moments ago.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of ragged gasps as they catch their breath in invigorated exhaustion. Their eyes don’t leave each other for a second.

Dean could technically breathe in the Empty, but it felt useless. Like there was air, but no oxygen. Like his lungs were just going through the motions. Just one of so many things that would’ve driven him out of his own head if his arrival hadn’t called to Cas’s soul—or whatever it is he has—and made him manifest right by his side. Dean had felt a little guilty since he was supposed to be the rescue party of one this time around.

So he’s dizzy from reveling in even breathing again. His brain catches up with it all and there’s laughter, and Dean belatedly realizes it’s coming from him. It’s a little hysterical and a whole lot relieved as Cas disentangles them and they both sit upright. Dean’s lost in his own head, and he lets fall back as his laughter trails off before his attention is back on Cas, whose arm he still hasn’t let go. Cas, whose gaze hasn’t left him. 

Dean dons his cheekiest, dopiest, shit-eatingest grin, and even chances a playful shove. “Told you it was my turn to ‘grip you tight’.”

He expects an eyeroll. But Cas’s answering smile is muted and soft and gorgeous and endlessly fond. Loving, even. His smiles are rare enough that, to Dean, this small uptick of the lips is as bright and easy as the Empty was dark and suffocating. Thank Go— well, no thanks to God—thank _Whatever_ he’s wearing the usual amount of layers, thus concealing his full-body blush, even if he feels overheated on the Bunker's cold, hard floor. 

Then something catches up to Dean. Sobers him. That same something that’s kept him too sober no matter how much booze he pounds down. 

“I, uh,” he starts, then looks down and away. When he glances back up, Cas’s smile is fading to concern, and his head’s tilted.

Dean tries again: “What you said. Before you left. You shouldn’t’ve—”

Cas waves him off, and it’s his turn to look away. “You don’t need to say anything. I meant what I said; it’s not about having. It has nothing to do with me.”

“It does, though. It does, Cas. You gotta know that killed me. You saved me and you died _again_ but first you friggin’ killed me. You can’t just say that and—”

Cas cuts him off again, the jerk. “I did what I needed to do to summon the Empty. I regret that I put that burden on your shoulders. I understand with perfect clarity, exactly what you are. I didn’t need to put that on you.”

“Stop. Stop, okay? Let me say this. ‘Cause every night when I played that moment over and over in my head I _did_ say it. Not when it counted. But when I played it in my head, over and over, what I could have done differently. Even if I couldn’t save you, I didn’t let you die without hearing. So let me say it for real, would you?”

“Dean.” And damn if his tone doesn’t kill Dean. His face— he looks like he’s waiting for a firing squad. How the hell did they get here, to where Cas is so sure he’s not going to like what he hears?

 _Spit it out._ “The one thing you want? Cas. You can have it. It’s been yours for a long friggin’ time now. You’re it for me. I had no idea you _could_ feel that way. But Cas, it— me too. You think I haven’t seen the worst you got? Your worst can’t hold a candle to your best.”

“ _Dean_.”

The sound is breathless, and breathtaking.

A beat. Dean squares his shoulders as best he can in the awkward way they’re still sat on the floor. “You’re it for me, man. It’s you. Always gonna be you.”

And Cas, well, he beams. Dean wants to kiss that smile. _Fuck,_ does he want to kiss that smile. Then it hits him: _Oh._ He _can_ kiss that smile.

So he does. He reaches, holds Cas’s face in his hands for the first time that Cas isn’t dying from Michael’s spear or by a reaper or crazed with a spell.

Cas is about to say something, to make some assurance that he doesn’t need Dean’s guilt or pity or some other misguided self-depreciation that Dean has no time for because that would be more time spent delaying for what’s taken too damn long already.

So he kisses him. Kisses him for all he’s worth. Kisses him senseless. Kisses him like it’s going out of style because dammit, they’re timeless. It’s more than lips on lips, even more than Cas’s soft gasp swallowed up by Dean’s best impression of the moan of a parched man drinking from an oasis. It’s all the tenderness he’s fumbled to funnel into all those fleeting touches, that he beat back when he got caught staring.

Finally, finally, finally, he can take that love that Cas marveled at and show that idiot it’s his to take. This is the one story he knows Chuck didn’t write himself, the one they could make up as they go. Now Chuck doesn’t even get to take a red pen to it. In that moment, they are each other’s and their own all the same.

A clatter.

The sound makes them break the kiss, brace for some new danger.

Instead, they trace the sound to Sam in time to see his dropped fork carry on to bounce off the table and to the floor, skittering a few inches towards the pair.

Sam’s frozen, mouth agape. Dean can practically see the buffering wheel going round and round in his brother’s brain.

“Are you serious?” Sam scoffs. He glances down pointedly at the big white bowl holding his lunch. “Right in front of my salad?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this happened when I saw this tweet [this tweet](https://twitter.com/cuddlydean24/status/1327282265106345984) basically saying that Cas may have gone to the Empty, but Sam’s been in the dark all season. I wrote a dumb twitfic in the replies that reminded me of [my own dumb Sam + the “right in front of my salad?” thread](https://twitter.com/kelpeigh/status/1242877400976961536)  
> Then I thought “You know what’d be a hoot? If I posted it on AO3.” But once I compiled the tweets in a doc I figured as long as the character limit’s gone, I may as well make it more coherent, and suddenly I’m forced to reckon with the fact that I have an honest-to-god fanfic, but I wouldn’t dare abandon its shitpost roots.


	2. Chapter 2

“I mean, I’m happy for you. Thrilled. Seriously. But you said you were making a beer run.”


End file.
